For Harry's Sake
by TeenMuggle
Summary: Sirius blames himself for Lily and James' deaths and wallows away in Azkaban with that thought. But a picture of a rat on a boy's shoulder was enough to change that. Sirius decides to fight back, to protect all he has left. For Harry's sake ...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Everything you recognise belongs to the Queen of Fiction herself: JK Rowling, unfortunately. I'm just having some fun :)**

**Got a random inspiration for this** **whilst reading 'Prisoner of Azkaban', finding myself wondering: 'What did Sirius make of all these events?' This is my idea of what he was up to. If you like this, I'll probably end up writing** **the entire** **book from his perspective. I really shouldn't be starting another story, I've got a Merlin one I've been seriously neglecting, but here's hoping 2012 will be a year of regular updates from me! :)**

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><p>James stood there, not five feet from Sirius, hair as messy as ever, his glasses twinkling in the semi-light. Only it wasn't James. It was Harry. And he wasn't Sirius. He was Padfoot. A shiver ran up his spine to the end of his tail. Harry, James' boy, his godson …<p>

Sirius couldn't believe the boy in front of him was the same one he had last seen laughing at colourful puffs of smoke coming from a wand all those years ago … how many was it, eleven, twelve? - Enough to transform that laughing infant into a teenager, the spitting image of his father.

He fought back the whine that threatened to issue from his throat. How much had changed? How many days was it he had been on the run now? He dreaded to count. The memories of that place tormented him during every waking hour. For too long he had languished in that cell, giving up on hope, and life itself. Only one thought had kept him going: _I'm innocent._

A low growl betrayed what would have been grim laughter in his human form. Innocent … what sort of innocence did he have? It was his fault, he had convinced them, he had made the swap … had sent Voldemort right to them.

But guilt had long since left him. That had been replaced long ago by a grim determination, and simmering rage. He had one goal –Peter.

His hackles rose as he pictured that scene once more in his mind. _'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you betray them like that? They were your friends!' _- Peter had screamed to the street at large, his pathetic sweat drenched face shining with fear. Not fear of Sirius, but of his former allies among the Death Eaters because the coward had been too afraid to do what was right, to give what was owed to his closest friends. Traitor.

The coward had muttered a hurried spell, whipped out a knife from inside his robes. There had been a flash of blood and then he was gone. Before Sirius could so much as raise his wand to finish off the murderous rat he had been bombarded with a brilliant flash of light, and a roar so intense he felt as if his eardrums would explode. He had been thrown off his feet into the hard ground, the air growing heated. He had regained his senses in time to see the utter devastation his former friend had wrought. The street was cracked open to reveal the sewer beneath. Dust and smoke, and the smell of burning flesh met him in equal measure. Screams rang out through the air. Bodies, horribly charred and mangled bodies, Muggles, lay around him in miserable heaps.

Almost immediately he had been surrounded by popping noises, as wizards of all shapes and sizes apparated around him, their wands held out in front of them as they took in this grisly sight. Sirius had paid them no heed. Instead he had stood stock still, his wand still outstretched in preparation to kill the man who had brought his world to an end. He had only had eyes for one spot- a heap of robes in front of him in the centre of the crater, and a single finger lying on top, where Peter had been only an instant before, then a flash of a tail disappearing into the exposed sewer.

He had stared and stared. Peter Pettigrew, that dumpy, talentless little boy had murdered a street full of Muggles, had sworn allegiance to Voldemort, and betrayed his best friends. James and Lily were dead. Harry was an orphan, off to live with his estranged Muggle relations. Remus, his last remaining friend who he'd been avoiding the last few months believing him to be a traitor, where was he? Was he dead too?

The wizards had come in closer, demanding he lower his wand and surrender peacefully. He looked again at the blood-stained robes. _Well,_ he had thought, _who would have guessed little Peter had it in him?_

And he'd laughed.

Sirius grew cold at the memory. He certainly had been unhinged at the time; it wasn't exactly surprising everyone thought he was mad. But was he, really? They say no one comes out of Azkaban sane, so was he? He didn't know, he didn't care, all he knew was that Harry was in danger, from the same man who had ripped him from his parents all those years ago.

Sirius would never forget the moment he had set eyes on that newspaper. Merely trying to pass the time and break the monotony of misery and boredom that engulfed him every day, he had asked for the newspaper of a visiting Ministry official. Skimming over the inane articles and ridiculous drivel that counted for journalism these days, his eyes had alighted on a single photograph. A family, laughing and waving in front of a pyramid, the first smiling faces he had seen in years. Sirius couldn't help but smile to look at them, a mismatched and rundown family they appeared to be, but happy. He had glanced at the accompanying article. _Weasley … _he knew the name, if not personally. He'd heard Molly Prewett had married one of them, the sister of two of the bravest men he had known; Fabian and Gideon. He remembered how they had glowed with joy when they'd described their baby sister's wedding. They had been killed not long afterwards. Sirius had never had a chance to meet her.

He looked at her photograph now, a plump cheerful looking woman. Yes, she was their sister all right; it was written clearly over her face, a fierce pride in her family, she would go to the death to protect them.

And what a large family she had. '_Weasleys breed like rabbits, filthy blood traitors, trying to force their ridiculous ideas on the rest of us decent folk. You can never get rid of them; they're a curse on wizardkind!' _he seemed to recall his dear old mother saying. And for that he liked them immediately.

He'd looked at each of them in turn. The mother and father with their arms around each other's shoulders, an elder boy with a Head Boy badge on his hat- Sirius had inwardly groaned, here was a stickler for rules and regulation, who wore their badges on holiday?-, twin boys with such a look of mischief and deviousness on their faces Sirius had no doubt these were the Marauders of their day-something painful had clenched within him, had he once been like that? – a young girl holding her mother's hand, and another boy, a teenager with gangly limbs and freckles- he'd be about Harry's age wouldn't he? Then he'd seen it, sitting on the youngest boy's shoulder staring straight out at him as though straight into his soul. It was _him._

A cry of fierce rage had ripped from his throat, indistinguishable from the cries of countless others in their lunacy. How dare he? That snivelling coward! He actually had the audacity to-

Sirius had let out another fierce roar and transformed into his dog form, pacing furiously up and down his cell, growling in agitation. Of course, he should have known, the stinking coward wasn't a complete idiot. He'd have been playing the lovable pet all these years, while Sirius rotted away in here, his twitching little ears on the lookout for any news of his old master, perfectly poised to re-join him if it suited him. Sirius shook with rage. This family obviously had no idea of the evil they were harbouring in the form of a rat. He was a _pet. _How simple, how brilliant!

A toe was missing from his front paw. Ingenious. Letting the entire world think he was dead. Little Peter, who would have thought he'd have the nerve to fake his own death?

Well, Sirius had growled, it wouldn't be so fake for much longer. He'd lain here in this cell for years, powerless, helpless, with only the memories of times gone by to torment him, only the knowledge of the betrayal that had occurred to accompany him, to remind him of what evil still lurked out there while he could do nothing. But no longer. He knew where he was now; he would find that stinking coward and gave him what he deserved. He'd find that family and then he'd-

One single horrific thought had struck him. He'd rapidly transformed back into a human and snatched up the paper so hurriedly he almost tore it. '_The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend.' _Hogwarts.

Sirius had racked his brains, calculating furiously in his mind, glancing at the date on the front of the newspaper. How old was Harry now? Twelve, thirteen? Old enough to be at Hogwarts. Where Peter would shortly be going. _No! _His mind had seemed to scream. He couldn't let that traitor anywhere near his godson! He would not let him within twenty miles of the boy he had orphaned.

Sirius had sat back in shock. How long had Peter been with this family? The whole twelve years? - Surely not, wouldn't they have been suspicious at such a long life? Was Peter a recent addition to the Weasley family? Would this be the first time he would have access to Harry?

Sirius had felt the rage course through his veins. How dare he even be in the same building as the boy! Was he planning to finish his master's work?

He'd stood up and started pacing with unprecedented energy, ignoring his weakness and malnourishment. That boy, the Weasley boy, how old was he? He was tall, certainly, but his face was young. He'd tried to work it out in his mind. The eldest boy was obviously a seventh year with a Head Boy badge. The twins looked a couple years younger than that, and the other boy another couple of years. The girl was obviously the youngest, small in stature, with an arm placed protectively around her shoulders by her brother. He had remembered his earlier thought; this boy was probably around the same age and possibly the same year as Harry himself. Hell, he could even be in the same House! The same dormitory! The Weasleys as far as he could remember had always been Gryffindors, as had the Prewetts. James and Lily had been Gryffindors; would Harry and this boy follow in their family's footsteps?

The thought made his heart stop. Peter, sleeping in the same room as Harry …

He had slammed his fist against a wall in anger, relishing the pain that came with it. It was the first concept of feeling he'd had in almost twelve years. He wasn't going to sit here rotting away whilst the last remnant of his oldest friend, of his old life was in danger. _He's at Hogwarts. _He had to protect Harry, protect him the way he should have done twelve years ago …

Sirius shook away the memories that had engulfed him. He was out of there now; he was finally taking some action, not languishing in that hellhole. Escaping had been far easier than he'd thought. Here he was all ready to head off for Hogwarts, to find and kill that monster.

But he'd had something to do first, something that couldn't wait. The godson he had failed, he had to see him, just to know that he was safe, to see the young man that infant had become.

And there he'd been, wandering around some dreary Muggle suburb, vaguely in the area Lily had mentioned her sister living in when she'd married some awful bore. It'd been hard to imagine any relative of Lily Potter living in such a nondescript place, but then again, Lily had always stressed the enormous gulf that had opened between herself and her sister, often with a glint of sadness and regret in her eyes. Sirius had never met Petunia, but James had, and described her as the most awful woman he had ever known, hateful, spiteful and vindictive. But worst of all, how she hated magic and everything to do with it, including her own sister.

Though that night twelve years ago had passed in a horrid blur when he discovered his best friends were dead, he remembered what Hagrid had said. Harry was being taken to his Muggle relations, why he could not say, only that they were Dumbledore's orders. Why though? Why on earth would Dumbledore send the boy to relations who obviously neither cared for nor wanted the boy? Sirius smiled grimly. _But he had no other choice did he? He believed the child's godfather was a Death Eater. _

Still, he'd have to have been mad to send Harry here! Petunia hated Lily! She would never have taken the boy in willingly! Sirius had stopped at that point, staring at a hedge in front of him. _Was _Harry with them? Had she accepted Harry into her family? More importantly, did Petunia still live here? Was Sirius even in the right place to be searching for his godson?

He'd slumped back on his haunches. The whole thing was hopeless. Even if he did find Harry, what exactly was he going to do? Walk out in front of him and say _Hey! I'm your godfather! I'm also a convicted criminal!_ Harry would know what others had told him, that he was a murderer, a traitor.

Still, he'd had to see him, before he went north, if only to reassure himself he was all right. What was he like? How had it been for him growing up in a family full of Muggles who despised magic?

He'd wandered aimlessly through the endless identical streets, ducking into shadows whenever a Muggle car would drive past, not really knowing where to go. He'd almost given up, when he'd heard sounds across the darkened street, someone carrying something heavy. He'd ducked into an alleyway between a fence and a garage to wait until the person had passed. But it seemed whoever it was had collapsed on the wall opposite to regain his breath, which was laboured and frenzied. Curious, Sirius had crept out from the shadows to get a closer look …

He couldn't believe the luck of finding Harry here, amongst all this mundane 'Muggle-ness'. His son's best friend …

If Sirius hadn't have known James was dead, had seen his body for himself, he would have sworn it was Prongs himself sitting there. He looked _so_ like him. But, he'd had Lily's eyes hadn't he? Sirius crept a little closer, but he couldn't get a proper look without startling him. Instead he just watched him, revelling in the pure good fortune he'd had just to be able to see his godson again.

He eyed him closely. He didn't seem to be doing anything, just sitting on the wall breathing heavily, occasionally glancing up and down the street. He looked _angry_. Sirius frowned, what was wrong? For that matter, why was he alone in the street at night? Sirius then turned his attention to whatever it was he'd been dragging. A great hulking shape sat beside him, and Sirius saw the distinct outline of an owl's cage. Harry then looked down to his hand, and Sirius suddenly noticed a thin strip of wood protruding from his fingers.

Sirius blinked. _He had his wand out?_ In a street full of Muggles? With his school trunk? Sirius took a step backwards. _He was running away._ Sirius bit back the growl that fought its way to the surface. How naïve had he been to think Petunia would have taken him in willingly! Of course he would have been miserable there! Those people would never have understood him!

Sirius felt a pang of sympathy. He knew all too well what it was to be rejected and hated by your family; if family they could be called. Still, Harry shouldn't be wandering the streets at night. There were still plenty Death Eaters who had eluded Azkaban.

_You are such a hypocrite Sirius Black, _ he told himself, _you weren't just content to stay at home with people you detested either were you?_

Sirius shook his head. He'd been older than Harry; he'd had somewhere to go. He wasn't a prime target for former Death Eaters seeking revenge …

Harry seemed completely clueless and Sirius began to get restless. He had to help him somehow …

Then suddenly, Harry stood up as though he'd come to a decision, and abruptly turned his back on Sirius and began to search through his trunk for something. Sirius inched closer …

Harry stood up straight, and glanced around him uneasily, as though he'd heard something. Sirius did likewise, was there someone approaching?

Harry seemed to dismiss the idea and bent back over his trunk. Sirius moved closer again; was Harry in danger?

Then, like a shot, Harry spun around and faced Sirius directly with his wand raised. Sirius inwardly cursed himself. Of course, it had been him Harry had heard. He barely had time to admire Harry's instincts before Harry murmured '_Lumos'_.

Sirius blinked at the sudden light that had fallen on him. He froze, panic momentarily washing all over him. _He'd been discovered._ Wait, he told himself, he was a dog for Merlin's sake! Just pretend to be a harmless stray!

But he barely had time before Harry stumbled backwards, evidently startled by the sudden appearance of a giant dog. Sirius had one last look before he fell back entirely, Harry's face now illuminated by the wandlight. It was James' face, entirely James' face, yet not so. Something about the expression betrayed it, subtle differences between Harry and his old friend, that only Sirius would know. And of course those eyes, now wide in shock, they were Lily's, purely Lily's. Sirius felt his breath catch in his throat. The ghosts of his past seemed to be staring out at him from this boy's face. He truly was _their_ son.

Blinding light suddenly filled the street, with a large BANG. Harry had fallen back over his trunk with his wand outstretched, and with a yell barely managed to avoid the purple three-decker bus that had just pulled up in front of him.

Sirius seized his opportunity. He bounded out from the alleyway on silent paws, and with a single leap crossed the street and concealed himself behind a large skip outside No. 3.

He watched as some pimply youth emerged from the bus and began to speak in a loud voice, whilst Harry lay on the ground, a slight look of bewilderment crossing his features. Sirius felt an urge to chuckle. He was as clueless as his father, and apparently attracted as much trouble … almost being run over by the Knight Bus. Memories flooded back, when he and James would play Chicken with the Knight Bus, similar to the Muggle children's game with cars, but much more dangerous and exciting when the bus could just pop up out of nowhere.

How many times had that conductor jinxed them for summoning the bus in order to play that stupid game? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered. The Knight Bus had a new conductor now; everything from Sirius' previous life seemed to have vanished. Except … was that Ernie still driving the bus? Merlin, how old was he now? More importantly, how blind?

The new conductor helped Harry up from the ground, and Harry immediately turned to the alleyway, now flooded with light. Sirius was glad he'd chosen to move, though he highly doubted whether this youth was intelligent enough to know an Animagus from a real dog.

Voices came to him from the night air: '_'Choo lookin' at?' _the youth had asked rather rudely

'_There was a big black thing,' _Harry said, pointing. '_Like a dog … but massive …' _

Sirius smiled, there was no fooling him. Still, 'big black thing' wasn't entirely complimentary. Listening to Harry speak, it was almost surreal. His voice was nothing like his father's, but still, there was something familiar there. Sirius smiled again; whatever his voice sounded like, his speech was certainly an improvement on 'Dada', the last words he'd heard Harry say all those years ago. He turned his attention abruptly back to the present as the youth spoke again.

'_Woss that on your 'head?' _he asked.

'_Nothing,' _Harry said rather quickly, trying (in vain as Sirius remembered from James) to flatten his unruly hair. Sirius frowned, what was he hiding? Then he remembered, seeing Harry after Hagrid had brought him from the burning remains from his home, a giant gash on his forehead, almost in the shape of a lightning bolt. Was that cut still there? Why hadn't it healed by now? Sirius cursed the fact he was so out of touch with what was going on. He only knew of a few things that had happened after his imprisonment, only discovering what he could in snippets from other prisoners, the foremost of which that Voldemort had been apparently defeated, made powerless by an infant boy after casting the Killing Curse at him. Sirius had found it difficult to believe at first, but the prisoners had been sincere, especially the Death Eaters who cursed Harry to high heaven. Sirius couldn't even begin to wonder how Harry had survived, but if made by the Killing Curse, it would make sense the cut would never have healed. Sirius growled inwardly; how much had Harry suffered?

'_Woss your name?' _the youth asked.

'_Neville Longbottom,' _Harry said, the expression of someone doing some extremely quick thinking James had often displayed when being caught by McGonagall out of bed after hours passed over his face- all too familiar to Sirius. He almost barked with laughter. _Longbottom?_ Who would ever believe that? The conductor did obviously. Sirius had never met Alice and Frank's son, but he could guess he'd be nothing like Harry. They'd be the same age wouldn't they? Sirius sighed; one thing he _had _heard in Azkaban was the awful fate that had met his old friends from the Order, inflicted by that maniac of a cousin of his. Both of these boys, Harry and Neville had had their families torn away from them most cruelly. Were they friends? Had they bonded over the same horrors that had inflicted their early years? Surely they must have, if Harry had so freely used his name as a cover.

Then Sirius frowned. Why was Harry pretending to be someone else? Was he that desperate to remain undiscovered? Sirius looked closely at him, he was nervous that much was obvious, trying to distract the conductor from asking any more personal questions. Wait, Harry had used a spell earlier; he'd had his wand firmly clenched in his hand walking through the streets. Sirius grew cold. He hadn't attacked his Muggle relations had he? Worse, had they attacked him? Was his godson now on the run?

No, he couldn't be … but he's definitely used magic! The Ministry was infamously strict on under-age wizardry, even a simple Lumos spell in a Muggle area would earn him a warning at least! Or did he no longer care? Sirius had the mad urge to leap out there and help him, but something held him back. He whined, shifting his weight from paw to paw. He wanted to help, but would Harry accept help from the man he believed to be responsible for his parent's deaths, for the massacre of all those Muggles? Of course not, he'd be terrified. He wouldn't believe him, even if he tried to explain, his appearance alone would be enough to convince him of his 'guilt'.

No, Harry had to fend for himself at the moment. Sirius listened as they made arrangements to go to London … and watched as Harry boarded the bus … and as it shot away into nothingness, all the while holding himself back with difficulty.

Please, let someone find him there, please let someone help him, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys … _anyone_, just don't let him be alone. Sirius hated himself for letting Harry set off for London, obviously afraid and alone, but he had other important things to do, for Harry's sake. He had to find that traitor, and tear him limb from limb before he could harm another hair on anyone's head, Muggle or magical. He only hoped that in time, Harry would understand.

Sirius turned tail, and set off on the long journey north.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review and let me know what you think! Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K Rowling.  
><strong>

Sirius stopped behind a large bin panting heavily and flopped to the ground. So much for his plan to go north, one week already gone and he'd barely even made it to London without collapsing. This was going to be murder.

He glanced up and down the darkened street. _Where was he?_ Everything seemed to have changed in twelve years, damn Muggles. Unlike the wizarding world they seemed to constantly change everything all the time; Sirius was hopelessly lost. Even Muggles themselves looked different. Wizarding fashion hadn't changed in centuries. Muggles seemed to delight in covering themselves in ridiculous rags with silly logos which change every other year.

After regaining his breath he stood up on his hind paws, batting the lid off the bin as he did so and began raking through for something to eat. _If only James could see me now, _he thought bitterly. Hell if his mother knew the heir to the 'Most Ancient and Noble House of Black' was bin-raking for food … he almost laughed.

Eventually he stumbled upon a half-eaten meal of fish and chips in one of those 'plastik' containers. He settled down and dived right in, his stomach growling, throwing back the meal as quickly as he could. It wasn't half bad, even if it was cold and slightly soggy, Muggles weren't all hopeless. He remembered wistfully back to the last time he'd eaten one of these meals, hot and crispy, with his best friend by his side, after an evening of gallivanting on his modified Muggle motorbike. 'Muggling' he and James had called it, an evening purely of fun and mischief in the Muggle world every month or so, a chance to get away from the horrors and deaths occurring in the magical world.

What had he been reduced to now? A mangy dog scrambling for scraps in bins whilst on the run from the Ministry for the murder of his closest friends.

He finished the pitiful meal and poked his nose back hopefully in the bin in search of anything else, but pickings were slim. A newspaper caught his eye and he jerked it out by the teeth and laid it out flat on the pavement in front of him. A passing Muggle stopped in surprise at a dog reading a newspaper and Sirius hurriedly began to turn around in a circle and curled up on the newspaper, as though going to sleep, and waited for the Muggle to continue on, which she eventually did, shaking her head. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't be too careful; the Ministry would no doubt be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. Whilst Muggles may find a dog reading a newspaper mildly amusing and 'cute', the Ministry knew better. Many unregistered Animagi had given themselves away by behaving too human like. It had never used to bother him; he was reckless by nature after all, the whole thrill was in not getting caught. But too much was at stake here. He had to be careful, for Harry's sake.

Once the Muggle had passed out of sight, Sirius struggled to his feet, battling the weakness hunger had left in his body, seized the newspaper by the teeth and raced off down the street and ducked into an obscure alleyway.

He once again laid out the paper and scanned the front page. It was a Muggle newspaper, and little of it made any sense to him- the death of some 'footballer', some music group called 'Take That', something about some bloke in the 'Ministry of Defence' … useless.

He tried to turn the page with his nose quite unsuccessfully, sighed, and transformed back into a human-who was going to see him here anyway - and lifted up the newspaper, soggy with his own drool. He flicked disinterestedly through the paper, before catching sight of a photograph of a gaunt man surrounded by a mane of matted hair, with horrid staring eyes. It took him a few moments to recognise himself.

His first emotion was shock. He, Sirius, in a Muggle newspaper? The picture wasn't moving, but it was definitely him. He glanced at the caption: _'Escaped convict Sirius Black continues to elude capture by leading authorities. Any sighting of Black should be reported immediately by calling the special hotline at the foot of this article. The public are warned not to approach Black as he is armed and extremely dangerous._'

Sirius threw his head back and laughed, startling a slinking alley cat as he did so. '_Armed and extremely dangerous?' _ Well, it depends on which way you look at it. He reached into the pocket of his shabby robes and withdrew the knife he kept there next to the _Prophet _clipping, having lifted it from a butchers shop a few days previously whilst looking for some food to filch. A knife was hardly dangerous to the members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but to a cowering little rat …

Sirius didn't want to use the Killing Curse, not the same thing that had torn away his best friends from him. No, he wanted to see the coward's blood himself, to make him suffer as he had for twelve years while little Peter grew even fatter on cheese and the adoring love of an oblivious family

The knife glinted in the light, casting a reflection on Sirius' face, and he found himself laughing again. He stopped abruptly. What the hell was wrong with him? Had Azkaban really unhinged him so much as to turn him into a maniac with a knife?

No, Peter had done that. And Peter would be the one to pay.

He was relatively surprised to find the Minister for Magic- whoever that was these days- had informed the Muggle Prime Minister- whoever _that_ was these days- about him. They must really be afraid of him. His throat clenched, no one had ever thought him dangerous before. A prankster and trouble-maker, yes, but never a murderer. They all must think that of him, Harry, Remus, his cousin Andromeda, Dumbledore, old McGonagall who he'd even made to laugh a few times with his silly pranks … they all thought him cruel and heartless. Maybe he was.

It made his blood boil. He could handle what others thought of him, hell, he'd put up with people who hated him for coming from a family of Slytherin purists, and those who hated him for being a blood traitor, with his own family disowning him, and his adopted family being ripped from him. But what really mattered was that Peter was still out there; _he_ was the dangerous one. And no one even knew.

Sirius threw the paper from him in disgust. What a farce.

The wind picked up at that moment, sending white flashes of scrap paper and other rubbish flying through the air, landing on the ground near him. One of the pieces of paper caught his eye.

He reached out and picked up a small rectangular piece of card. A train ticket. From King's Cross station.

An idea lit in his head. _King's Cross._ He wouldn't have to travel north himself. He could take the train! Was the station anywhere close by?

Almost immediately he cursed himself for being stupid. There was no way in hell he'd be able to sneak on to the Hogwarts Express without anyone seeing. Plus, there might even be extra security on the train; Aurors, or worse, Dementors.

Sirius shuddered. He had no intention of going anywhere near them again for a long time. Hearing Hagrid's words again … '_I'm sorry Sirius. Lily 'n James. They're gone. There's nothin' yeh can do.'_

Sirius closed his eyes and waited while the pain of that memory subsided. He had to focus. He couldn't do anything about James and Lily now. What he could do was protect their son.

Sirius paced. Could he manage to get onto the train, sneak into one of the back compartments? Would anyone notice a giant dog? What was he thinking, of course they would! He wasn't like Peter; his Animagus form couldn't blend in as well on a train full of students headed towards a school where dogs were not permitted as pets_. Still_, he smiled fondly to himself, _at least I'm not as conspicuous as Prongs would be._

After a few moments more of pacing in the dim alley, he had made up his mind. He had to at least try. Merlin knows how long it would take on foot, if he could at least get part of the way …

Sirius transformed back and padded off down the alley, filled with increased vigour. If he failed in boarding the train, then at least he could see Harry again. What had happened to him? He needed to know before he left.

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><p>Another week later and Sirius finally found himself in front of King's Cross station. London was <em>big, <em>much bigger than he remembered, or maybe that was just because he was much smaller now. He'd only been able to travel at night, travelling through busy pedestrian areas during the day was not a good idea. Someone had assumed he was a stray and set the RPSCA … no, the PSRCA … the RPC … _something _on him, which apparently included trying to shove him into the back of a van with a bunch of other mangy animals. What a shock they'd had when he'd jumped forward and stole the keys to the van from the man's belt before running off with them.

Sirius looked up at the façade above him, and let the memories come flooding back. How he'd loved this place; the portal to his world at Hogwarts, away from the dreariness of his childhood 'home'.

But he was too early, according to a discarded newspaper on a bench outside the station. The train wouldn't leave for another week. He couldn't very well hang around here; someone would notice and set some of those blokes with blue overalls after him again. For a moment he was stumped.

He had nowhere to go, no one to take him in.

An idea hit him then, a ridiculous notion that repulsed him. Grimmauld Place would be empty.

The idea of returning there was repellent, but it would be practical at least, well within walking distance of King's Cross. Both his parents were dead now, he'd heard. There'd be nobody except old Kreacher.

He turned tail and dragged his paws along as he set off on the all-too familiar route to the old house, debating the pros and cons of the situation. The house would still belong to him wouldn't it? And Kreacher would have to obey him, wouldn't he? Sirius _was_ the last Black heir- it wouldn't have passed to anyone else, would it? Prisoners in Azkaban are stripped of all possessions upon entering, but his mother had died _after _his imprisonment. Since Regulus was dead, was he now the owner even if he'd been disinherited? It was worth finding out. Merlin forbid the place had gone to the Malfoys.

The sky began to grow lighter and Sirius increased his speed, picking his way through the familiar streets. Little had changed here. It was still the same old dump it had always been. It'd often amazed Sirius that his parents, so hateful of anything of the Muggle would consent to live right amongst them.

The houses he was passing grew ever more familiar, terraced buildings growing up higher and higher, as dull and depressing as ever. Windows so streaked with dirt it was a wonder anyone could see out of them; rusty old bikes dumped in the front gardens, rubbish bins lying on their sides in the gutters …yes, as charming as ever.

He turned the corner and found himself in Grimmauld Place itself. The place reeked of his childhood, all the horrid memories …

He padded down the pavement and stopped himself in front of number 12, faintly surprised at seeing it so dilapidated. It was obvious no one lived here now. It seemed the years since his mother's death had not been kind. Kreacher _must_ be dead, there was no way he'd have let the house fall into ruin like this. That thought cheered him slightly.

He ran up the front steps, pausing before the door. He never thought he'd leave Azkaban, only to come here again. From one prison, to another.

He reached up with his front paws, and with some difficulty turned the handle, trusting the old magic of the house would still let blood descendants enter, even if they were in dog form.

The door swung open, and he fell forward onto his two front paws into the dull and now dusty hallway, illuminated only by the light that came from behind him. It was darker, mustier, and even more grim than he remembered. Still, it was a roof over his head.

He stepped a few more feet into the house, reached out with his back leg and slammed the door shut behind him.

All at once, a great awful noise erupted, a dreadful screeching sound that reverberated through his skull so that he placed both his paws over his ears.

He looked to where the sound was coming from, and saw across from him, the old portrait of his mother, dear old mumsie, screaming the place down. _Old hag_, _can't she even leave me in peace in death?_

'_Villains! Traitors! Blood of my blood a common criminal! Get out! Get out! All of you!'_

Sirius removed his paws from his ears. All of you?

He heard thundering footsteps coming from the basement kitchen, and his heart leapt to his throat. _You idiot! You unthinking, reckless, idiot! Of course they'd guess you'd come back here!_

Without time to turn around and try manoeuvring the locking mechanism on the door with his paws, he leapt into the shadows behind an old chest of drawers in the hallway, praying to go unnoticed.

He heard two steps of footsteps emerge in the hallway, pause and look around, muttering to each other, inaudible over his mother's screams. Then:

'Shut up!' one of them screamed, and a large BANG told Sirius he'd sent some sort of a spell at the portrait. If his heart hadn't been thumping in fear he'd have been quite happy at that.

His mother fell silent, breathing in deeply, moaning slightly with her breaths, but ceased her screaming.

'Merlin, what a relief,' the other one said. 'Don't think I can take much more of this Dave. She's a raving lunatic.'

'They all are Roger. All the old pure-blooded families are the same. So inbred they've something missing upstairs.'

Sirius ignored this jibe; after all, it wasn't exactly untrue.

Dave continued: 'What set her off though?'

Sirius crept further into the shadows, staying as silent as possible.

'What set her off? The bloody air set her off! She doesn't need a reason! She's barking I tell you!'

'I heard the door slam.'

'Probably that creepy elf.'

Sirius sighed. So Kreacher _wasn't _dead then.

'Roger, how do you ever expect to complete your Auror training if you dismiss everything? One tiny little detail could be the difference between life and death!'

'All right, all right Dave, keep your hair on! _Homenum revelio._'

Sirius froze.

Nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd heard that charm did not work on unregistered Animagi, but he'd never cared to test it.

'See Dave, nothing there!'

'There might have been Roger; you should always check! I was apprenticed to Mad-Eye Moody when I was your age, and he always used to say 'Constant Vigilance'. He would never have made a silly mistake like that!'

'Yeah, and look at him now, completely barking. Sees enemies in his chamber pot … '

'He's still the best Auror there ever was.'

A surge of emotion surged through Sirius at this. Old Mad-Eye from the Order was still kicking about then? And by the sounds of it hadn't changed a bit. Sirius wanted to laugh. Of course, Mad-Eye wouldn't be so glad to see him now. It hurt Sirius more than he would have guessed to think Mad-Eye would hate him and think him a murderer. No, he'd find no refuge with his old friend now; he was the enemy. And being Mad-Eye's enemy was no laughing matter.

'Yeah yeah, I know how you hero worship the old git.' There was a short silence. 'This place gives me the creeps Dave. How long do you reckon we have to stay here for?'

'Until Black is caught I reckon.'

'He won't be caught by the likes of us. It'll be the Dementors that'll get him.'

Sirius shuddered.

'Most likely. I don't even see the reason for staying here. If Black is sane enough to escape from Azkaban he isn't stupid enough to return here.'

Sirius almost snorted. Evidently he was.

'Why'd he want to come back here though? This place is a complete dump. It's no wonder he turned out the way he did, growing up in a place like this, with a mother like that. I mean look at the place! Serpents in every part of the décor, elf heads stuck on the wall and- is that a troll's leg umbrella stand?'

'I don't even want to know.'

Sirius nodded in the shadows. That was his mother; warped and twisted.

Roger sighed. 'I heard he was alright at school though. A Gryffindor wasn't he?'

'Doesn't make a man good.'

'I suppose. The brother was a Slytherin though. You know he was a Death Eater?'

'_Yes_ Roger. I _did_ read the briefing notes.' Dave said exasperatedly.

'No need to be sarky! You know what I reckon? I think Sirius was so unhinged by his brother's death- I mean, no one knows exactly how he died- that he joined You-Know-Who for revenge. The family madness must have caught up with him in the end.'

'Your perceptions of human psychology astound me Roger. What did I ever do to piss Scrimgeour off so much I got landed with you, the most annoying intern in the Auror department?'

'Oh, flattering. But seriously, listen to my theory-'

The voices began to fade as the two Aurors moved towards the kitchen.

Sirius stayed silent and without moving a muscle until he distinctly heard the sound of the kitchen door slam shut. Now he was stuck. He knew he should leave, but if he tried playing around with the complicated locking mechanism he'd risk alerting the Aurors. And besides, he was beyond tired, if he left again he'd probably collapse before he'd gone half a mile. It couldn't hurt to stay here for the rest of the day would it? They'd have no reason to go into the upper rooms would they?

The tiniest of growls emerged from his throat when he thought of the two Aurors. Hearing himself talked about like that by strangers, so cold and heartless. They had no reason to doubt his guilt; they believed he was a criminal, that he was mad.

Was he mad? He wasn't sure anymore.

Here he was, on the run, plotting murder, doubting his sanity … a chip off the old block indeed.

Sirius shook with anger; he'd gone to all that trouble to distance himself from his family and here was he was, just like them. It was his friends that had made him different, given him hope and laughter, now he had none of that. That had been what separated him from his family; the fact that he had friends he would die for, who would die for him, pure-blood and Muggle-born alike. He had love, and friendship, and happiness, he wasn't like them. He was a Gryffindor.

Now that was gone. His best friends were gone from him. He was no different from them now.

He crept along the dusty corridor, wary not to awaken his mother's portrait, until he reached the staircase. He bounded up it on silent paws passing the grotesque shapes of the elf's heads until he reached the first floor landing. He moved along the corridor and dived into the drawing room.

He paused and looked around him, taking in the neglected room that had always been his mother's favourite. It was covered in a blanket of dust; evidently the Aurors did not come up here. Limp curtains in the dirt-streaked windows twitched, the glass fronts of the display cabinets on the other wall glinted dully revealing the distasteful treasures within and the desk in the corner rattled ominously. Sirius didn't even want to know what was in there.

He padded across the floor towards the cupboard at the other end of the room which Sirius remembered being rather large; he'd sleep in here, if the Aurors came snooping he didn't want to make it even easier to find him.

He avoided the tapestry on the wall; he didn't want to see evidence of his 'noble heritage', the centuries of betrayal, murder, inbreeding and disinheritance, he didn't want to see the inevitable burn mark his mother would have made of his own name.

He reached the cupboard, and nosed it open, resisting the urge to cough at the dusty air. It had been a cupboard for curtains and spare cushions, and Sirius slipped inside, and made himself as comfortable as he could on an old moth-eaten cushion with what unpleasantly looked like the Slytherin crest embroidered on it.

Sirius lay there in the semi-darkness, listening to the distant voices of the Aurors in the kitchen. He knew he was too close to danger, but what else could he do? He should wait until it grew dark again and then try and make his way out whilst the Aurors slept. It was all he could do.

He curled up even tighter, uncomfortable in the cramped cupboard. This place had always seemed much bigger when he was a child and would come hide in here to escape his mother and her pure-blood supremacy speeches.

He was back in this house, the house of misery, where he'd so often tried to escape from.

Who'd have thought he'd come to this house for refuge?

How had it come to this?

Sirius stopped behind a large bin panting heavily and flopped to the ground. So much for his plan to go north, one week already gone and he'd barely even made it to London without collapsing. This was going to be murder.

He glanced up and down the darkened street. _Where was he?_ Everything seemed to have changed in twelve years, damn Muggles. Unlike the wizarding world they seemed to constantly change everything all the time; Sirius was hopelessly lost. Even Muggles themselves looked different. Wizarding fashion hadn't changed in centuries. Muggles seemed to delight in covering themselves in ridiculous rags with silly logos which change every other year.

After regaining his breath he stood up on his hind paws, batting the lid off the bin as he did so and began raking through for something to eat. _If only James could see me now, _he thought bitterly. Hell if his mother knew the heir to the 'Most Ancient and Noble House of Black' was bin-raking for food … he almost laughed.

Eventually he stumbled upon a half-eaten meal of fish and chips in one of those 'plastik' containers. He settled down and dived right in, his stomach growling, throwing back the meal as quickly as he could. It wasn't half bad, even if it was cold and slightly soggy, Muggles weren't all hopeless. He remembered wistfully back to the last time he'd eaten one of these meals, hot and crispy, with his best friend by his side, after an evening of gallivanting on his modified Muggle motorbike. 'Muggling' he and James had called it, an evening purely of fun and mischief in the Muggle world every month or so, a chance to get away from the horrors and deaths occurring in the magical world.

What had he been reduced to now? A mangy dog scrambling for scraps in bins whilst on the run from the Ministry for the murder of his closest friends.

He finished the pitiful meal and poked his nose back hopefully in the bin in search of anything else, but pickings were slim. A newspaper caught his eye and he jerked it out by the teeth and laid it out flat on the pavement in front of him. A passing Muggle stopped in surprise at a dog reading a newspaper and Sirius hurriedly began to turn around in a circle and curled up on the newspaper, as though going to sleep, and waited for the Muggle to continue on, which she eventually did, shaking her head. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't be too careful; the Ministry would no doubt be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. Whilst Muggles may find a dog reading a newspaper mildly amusing and 'cute', the Ministry knew better. Many unregistered Animagi had given themselves away by behaving too human like. It had never used to bother him; he was reckless by nature after all, the whole thrill was in not getting caught. But too much was at stake here. He had to be careful, for Harry's sake.

Once the Muggle had passed out of sight, Sirius struggled to his feet, battling the weakness hunger had left in his body, seized the newspaper by the teeth and raced off down the street and ducked into an obscure alleyway.

He once again laid out the paper and scanned the front page. It was a Muggle newspaper, and little of it made any sense to him- the death of some 'footballer', some music group called 'Take That', something about some bloke in the 'Ministry of Defence' … useless.

He tried to turn the page with his nose quite unsuccessfully, sighed, and transformed back into a human-who was going to see him here anyway - and lifted up the newspaper, soggy with his own drool. He flicked disinterestedly through the paper, before catching sight of a photograph of a gaunt man surrounded by a mane of matted hair, with horrid staring eyes. It took him a few moments to recognise himself.

His first emotion was shock. He, Sirius, in a Muggle newspaper? The picture wasn't moving, but it was definitely him. He glanced at the caption: _'Escaped convict Sirius Black continues to elude capture by leading authorities. Any sighting of Black should be reported immediately by calling the special hotline at the foot of this article. The public are warned not to approach Black as he is armed and extremely dangerous._'

Sirius threw his head back and laughed, startling a slinking alley cat as he did so. '_Armed and extremely dangerous?' _ Well, it depends on which way you look at it. He reached into the pocket of his shabby robes and withdrew the knife he kept there next to the _Prophet _clipping, having lifted it from a butchers shop a few days previously whilst looking for some food to filch. A knife was hardly dangerous to the members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but to a cowering little rat …

Sirius didn't want to use the Killing Curse, not the same thing that had torn away his best friends from him. No, he wanted to see the coward's blood himself, to make him suffer as he had for twelve years while little Peter grew even fatter on cheese and the adoring love of an oblivious family

The knife glinted in the light, casting a reflection on Sirius' face, and he found himself laughing again. He stopped abruptly. What the hell was wrong with him? Had Azkaban really unhinged him so much as to turn him into a maniac with a knife?

No, Peter had done that. And Peter would be the one to pay.

He was relatively surprised to find the Minister for Magic- whoever that was these days- had informed the Muggle Prime Minister- whoever _that_ was these days- about him. They must really be afraid of him. His throat clenched, no one had ever thought him dangerous before. A prankster and trouble-maker, yes, but never a murderer. They all must think that of him, Harry, Remus, his cousin Andromeda, Dumbledore, old McGonagall who he'd even made to laugh a few times with his silly pranks … they all thought him cruel and heartless. Maybe he was.

It made his blood boil. He could handle what others thought of him, hell, he'd put up with people who hated him for coming from a family of Slytherin purists, and those who hated him for being a blood traitor, with his own family disowning him, and his adopted family being ripped from him. But what really mattered was that Peter was still out there; _he_ was the dangerous one. And no one even knew.

Sirius threw the paper from him in disgust. What a farce.

The wind picked up at that moment, sending white flashes of scrap paper and other rubbish flying through the air, landing on the ground near him. One of the pieces of paper caught his eye.

He reached out and picked up a small rectangular piece of card. A train ticket. From King's Cross station.

An idea lit in his head. _King's Cross._ He wouldn't have to travel north himself. He could take the train! Was the station anywhere close by?

Almost immediately he cursed himself for being stupid. There was no way in hell he'd be able to sneak on to the Hogwarts Express without anyone seeing. Plus, there might even be extra security on the train; Aurors, or worse, Dementors.

Sirius shuddered. He had no intention of going anywhere near them again for a long time. Hearing Hagrid's words again … '_I'm sorry Sirius. Lily 'n James. They're gone. There's nothin' yeh can do.'_

Sirius closed his eyes and waited while the pain of that memory subsided. He had to focus. He couldn't do anything about James and Lily now. What he could do was protect their son.

Sirius paced. Could he manage to get onto the train, sneak into one of the back compartments? Would anyone notice a giant dog? What was he thinking, of course they would! He wasn't like Peter; his Animagus form couldn't blend in as well on a train full of students headed towards a school where dogs were not permitted as pets_. Still_, he smiled fondly to himself, _at least I'm not as conspicuous as Prongs would be._

After a few moments more of pacing in the dim alley, he had made up his mind. He had to at least try. Merlin knows how long it would take on foot, if he could at least get part of the way …

Sirius transformed back and padded off down the alley, filled with increased vigour. If he failed in boarding the train, then at least he could see Harry again. What had happened to him? He needed to know before he left.

Another week later and Sirius finally found himself in front of King's Cross station. London was _big, _much bigger than he remembered, or maybe that was just because he was much smaller now. He'd only been able to travel at night, travelling through busy pedestrian areas during the day was not a good idea. Someone had assumed he was a stray and set the RPSCA … no, the PSRCA … the RPC … _something _on him, which apparently included trying to shove him into the back of a van with a bunch of other mangy animals. What a shock they'd had when he'd jumped forward and stole the keys to the van from the man's belt before running off with them.

Sirius looked up at the façade above him, and let the memories come flooding back. How he'd loved this place; the portal to his world at Hogwarts, away from the dreariness of his childhood 'home'.

But he was too early, according to a discarded newspaper on a bench outside the station. The train wouldn't leave for another week. He couldn't very well hang around here; someone would notice and set some of those blokes with blue overalls after him again. For a moment he was stumped.

He had nowhere to go, no one to take him in.

An idea hit him then, a ridiculous notion that repulsed him. Grimmauld Place would be empty.

The idea of returning there was repellent, but it would be practical at least, well within walking distance of King's Cross. Both his parents were dead now, he'd heard. There'd be nobody except old Kreacher.

He turned tail and dragged his paws along as he set off on the all-too familiar route to the old house, debating the pros and cons of the situation. The house would still belong to him wouldn't it? And Kreacher would have to obey him, wouldn't he? Sirius _was_ the last Black heir- it wouldn't have passed to anyone else, would it? Prisoners in Azkaban are stripped of all possessions upon entering, but his mother had died _after _his imprisonment. Since Regulus was dead, was he now the owner even if he'd been disinherited? It was worth finding out. Merlin forbid the place had gone to the Malfoys.

The sky began to grow lighter and Sirius increased his speed, picking his way through the familiar streets. Little had changed here. It was still the same old dump it had always been. It'd often amazed Sirius that his parents, so hateful of anything of the Muggle would consent to live right amongst them.

The houses he was passing grew ever more familiar, terraced buildings growing up higher and higher, as dull and depressing as ever. Windows so streaked with dirt it was a wonder anyone could see out of them; rusty old bikes dumped in the front gardens, rubbish bins lying on their sides in the gutters …yes, as charming as ever.

He turned the corner and found himself in Grimmauld Place itself. The place reeked of his childhood, all the horrid memories …

He padded down the pavement and stopped himself in front of number 12, faintly surprised at seeing it so dilapidated. It was obvious no one lived here now. It seemed the years since his mother's death had not been kind. Kreacher _must_ be dead, there was no way he'd have let the house fall into ruin like this. That thought cheered him slightly.

He ran up the front steps, pausing before the door. He never thought he'd leave Azkaban, only to come here again. From one prison, to another.

He reached up with his front paws, and with some difficulty turned the handle, trusting the old magic of the house would still let blood descendants enter, even if they were in dog form.

The door swung open, and he fell forward onto his two front paws into the dull and now dusty hallway, illuminated only by the light that came from behind him. It was darker, mustier, and even more grim than he remembered. Still, it was a roof over his head.

He stepped a few more feet into the house, reached out with his back leg and slammed the door shut behind him.

All at once, a great awful noise erupted, a dreadful screeching sound that reverberated through his skull so that he placed both his paws over his ears.

He looked to where the sound was coming from, and saw across from him, the old portrait of his mother, dear old mumsie, screaming the place down. _Old hag_, _can't she even leave me in peace in death?_

'_Villains! Traitors! Blood of my blood a common criminal! Get out! Get out! All of you!'_

Sirius removed his paws from his ears. All of you?

He heard thundering footsteps coming from the basement kitchen, and his heart leapt to his throat. _You idiot! You unthinking, reckless, idiot! Of course they'd guess you'd come back here!_

Without time to turn around and try manoeuvring the locking mechanism on the door with his paws, he leapt into the shadows behind an old chest of drawers in the hallway, praying to go unnoticed.

He heard two steps of footsteps emerge in the hallway, pause and look around, muttering to each other, inaudible over his mother's screams. Then:

'Shut up!' one of them screamed, and a large BANG told Sirius he'd sent some sort of a spell at the portrait. If his heart hadn't been thumping in fear he'd have been quite happy at that.

His mother fell silent, breathing in deeply, moaning slightly with her breaths, but ceased her screaming.

'Merlin, what a relief,' the other one said. 'Don't think I can take much more of this Dave. She's a raving lunatic.'

'They all are Roger. All the old pure-blooded families are the same. So inbred they've something missing upstairs.'

Sirius ignored this jibe; after all, it wasn't exactly untrue.

Dave continued: 'What set her off though?'

Sirius crept further into the shadows, staying as silent as possible.

'What set her off? The bloody air set her off! She doesn't need a reason! She's barking I tell you!'

'I heard the door slam.'

'Probably that creepy elf.'

Sirius sighed. So Kreacher _wasn't _dead then.

'Roger, how do you ever expect to complete your Auror training if you dismiss everything? One tiny little detail could be the difference between life and death!'

'All right, all right Dave, keep your hair on! _Homenum revelio._'

Sirius froze.

Nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd heard that charm did not work on unregistered Animagi, but he'd never cared to test it.

'See Dave, nothing there!'

'There might have been Roger; you should always check! I was apprenticed to Mad-Eye Moody when I was your age, and he always used to say 'Constant Vigilance'. He would never have made a silly mistake like that!'

'Yeah, and look at him now, completely barking. Sees enemies in his chamber pot … '

'He's still the best Auror there ever was.'

A surge of emotion surged through Sirius at this. Old Mad-Eye from the Order was still kicking about then? And by the sounds of it hadn't changed a bit. Sirius wanted to laugh. Of course, Mad-Eye wouldn't be so glad to see him now. It hurt Sirius more than he would have guessed to think Mad-Eye would hate him and think him a murderer. No, he'd find no refuge with his old friend now; he was the enemy. And being Mad-Eye's enemy was no laughing matter.

'Yeah yeah, I know how you hero worship the old git.' There was a short silence. 'This place gives me the creeps Dave. How long do you reckon we have to stay here for?'

'Until Black is caught I reckon.'

'He won't be caught by the likes of us. It'll be the Dementors that'll get him.'

Sirius shuddered.

'Most likely. I don't even see the reason for staying here. If Black is sane enough to escape from Azkaban he isn't stupid enough to return here.'

Sirius almost snorted. Evidently he was.

'Why'd he want to come back here though? This place is a complete dump. It's no wonder he turned out the way he did, growing up in a place like this, with a mother like that. I mean look at the place! Serpents in every part of the décor, elf heads stuck on the wall and- is that a troll's leg umbrella stand?'

'I don't even want to know.'

Sirius nodded in the shadows. That was his mother; warped and twisted.

Roger sighed. 'I heard he was alright at school though. A Gryffindor wasn't he?'

'Doesn't make a man good.'

'I suppose. The brother was a Slytherin though. You know he was a Death Eater?'

'_Yes_ Roger. I _did_ read the briefing notes.' Dave said exasperatedly.

'No need to be sarky! You know what I reckon? I think Sirius was so unhinged by his brother's death- I mean, no one knows exactly how he died- that he joined You-Know-Who for revenge. The family madness must have caught up with him in the end.'

'Your perceptions of human psychology astound me Roger. What did I ever do to piss Scrimgeour off so much I got landed with you, the most annoying intern in the Auror department?'

'Oh, flattering. But seriously, listen to my theory-'

The voices began to fade as the two Aurors moved towards the kitchen.

Sirius stayed silent and without moving a muscle until he distinctly heard the sound of the kitchen door slam shut. Now he was stuck. He knew he should leave, but if he tried playing around with the complicated locking mechanism he'd risk alerting the Aurors. And besides, he was beyond tired, if he left again he'd probably collapse before he'd gone half a mile. It couldn't hurt to stay here for the rest of the day would it? They'd have no reason to go into the upper rooms would they?

The tiniest of growls emerged from his throat when he thought of the two Aurors. Hearing himself talked about like that by strangers, so cold and heartless. They had no reason to doubt his guilt; they believed he was a criminal, that he was mad.

Was he mad? He wasn't sure anymore.

Here he was, on the run, plotting murder, doubting his sanity … a chip off the old block indeed.

Sirius shook with anger; he'd gone to all that trouble to distance himself from his family and here was he was, just like them. It was his friends that had made him different, given him hope and laughter, now he had none of that. That had been what separated him from his family; the fact that he had friends he would die for, who would die for him, pure-blood and Muggle-born alike. He had love, and friendship, and happiness, he wasn't like them. He was a Gryffindor.

Now that was gone. His best friends were gone from him. He was no different from them now.

He crept along the dusty corridor, wary not to awaken his mother's portrait, until he reached the staircase. He bounded up it on silent paws passing the grotesque shapes of the elf's heads until he reached the first floor landing. He moved along the corridor and dived into the drawing room.

He paused and looked around him, taking in the neglected room that had always been his mother's favourite. It was covered in a blanket of dust; evidently the Aurors did not come up here. Limp curtains in the dirt-streaked windows twitched, the glass fronts of the display cabinets on the other wall glinted dully revealing the distasteful treasures within and the desk in the corner rattled ominously. Sirius didn't even want to know what was in there.

He padded across the floor towards the cupboard at the other end of the room which Sirius remembered being rather large; he'd sleep in here, if the Aurors came snooping he didn't want to make it even easier to find him.

He avoided the tapestry on the wall; he didn't want to see evidence of his 'noble heritage', the centuries of betrayal, murder, inbreeding and disinheritance, he didn't want to see the inevitable burn mark his mother would have made of his own name.

He reached the cupboard, and nosed it open, resisting the urge to cough at the dusty air. It had been a cupboard for curtains and spare cushions, and Sirius slipped inside, and made himself as comfortable as he could on an old moth-eaten cushion with what unpleasantly looked like the Slytherin crest embroidered on it.

Sirius lay there in the semi-darkness, listening to the distant voices of the Aurors in the kitchen. He knew he was too close to danger, but what else could he do? He should wait until it grew dark again and then try and make his way out whilst the Aurors slept. It was all he could do.

He curled up even tighter, uncomfortable in the cramped cupboard. This place had always seemed much bigger when he was a child and would come hide in here to escape his mother and her pure-blood supremacy speeches.

He was back in this house, the house of misery, where he'd so often tried to escape from.

Who'd have thought he'd come to this house for refuge?

How had it come to this?

**A/N: Please review folks! Am I getting Sirius' character right or not? :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the kind reviews! :) **

**Underlined content from Deathly Hallows and property of J.K Rowling  
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Sirius awoke many hours later, refreshed but starving. He stood up on wavering legs and listened carefully for any sound of the Aurors. He heard nothing.

He slowly nosed open the cupboard door, and crept back out of it. The room was engulfed in darkness; it was obviously the middle of the night.

Sirius sighed. Time to leave.

He wasn't exactly disappointed. Staying in this house for the remaining week until 1st September hadn't really appealed to him much in the first place. Still, he had hoped to have at least someplace to stay in off the streets away from the cold and the damp and the stares of potential enemies.

Damn those Aurors.

He crept across the drawing room floor, footsteps muffled by the thick dust. His stomach growled with hunger. He'd had nothing to eat all day and half of this night and the previous one. He was going to have to sort out this food problem, he had to be in proper form when he found Peter; at the moment he was no match for a Flobberworm.

There then a small muffled scratching sound coming from the corner of the room and Sirius froze, his ears pricked up, listening intently. There was silence. Sirius relaxed slightly, it was nothing. A sudden flash of movement, something small running along the skirting boards, and something snapped within Sirius.

He pounced, his instincts taking over, his teeth snapping frantically.

He wasn't Sirius at that moment, he was Padfoot- he wasn't human.

His teeth sunk into something small and furry, he closed his jaws over the struggling form and it grew limp.

All of a sudden, Sirius came back to himself. He looked down in front of him. An enormous rat lay there, blood seeping from a wound around its neck.

Sirius blinked in astonishment. Had he done that?

Was he becoming more dog than man now?

He shrugged. A meal was a meal, even if it was a disgusting, raw rodent. He bit into it; surprisingly it tasted better than he thought he would, probably thanks to his canine instincts which seemed to be coming out more and more every day. Sirius pondered for a moment, if he spent so much time as a dog would he eventually become completely like one? Would he completely lose any traces of humanity?

Peter had been a rat for twelve years, how had that affected him? Sirius growled; it wouldn't have made much difference to his character. He was a stinking cowardly rat by nature.

He glanced at the remains of the rat on the drawing room floor. Pity it wasn't the rat he was looking for.

His hunger slightly assuaged, he crossed the room and poked his head out of the door into the dark corridor. He could hear nothing from downstairs. He stepped out of the room and onto the staircase. He'd have to be completely silent …

A niggling little thought arose in his mind at that moment, and he had the sudden urge to go up instead of down. He couldn't explain why, he just _had_ to go upstairs. _Ignore it Sirius_ he thought to himself._ Your little impulses never get you anywhere except into trouble._

He hesitated. He shouldn't be wasting any more time; it was too risky, he might attract the Aurors … there were so many reasons not to go upstairs …

Sirius turned around and went upstairs. After all, he was a Marauder, and they'd never been good at controlling their impulses.

He went up and up, passing various landings without glancing into the doors that led off from them, until he reached the very top of the house. He emerged onto the familiar landing where two doors led off.

He glanced at the closest one with that pompous little sign:

_Do Not Enter_

_Without the Express Permission of_

_Regulus Arcturus Black_

Sirius scoffed. _Git_. As if that sign had ever stopped him entering before. He had no wish to enter now though; he had no desire to see evidence of just how much of a Death Eater his little brother had become.

Instead he moved across to the next door with the simple: _Sirius._

He paused- did he want to enter here again after all these years?

He deliberated for a moment, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He moved towards the door and stood up on his back legs to try and move the handle, but his paws were too large and clumsy for the tiny door knob.

He fell back onto all fours, listened for anyone coming up the stairs, and transformed.

He reached out his hand, and turned the handle, for some reason feeling nervous. The door opened and Sirius emerged into his teenage refuge.

He almost laughed at how little had changed. The room was dusty, covered in cobwebs and coated in years' worth of dirt, but everything else was exactly the way he had left it- the countless posters and Gryffindor banners covering the walls as resolutely as ever. He smiled as he looked at them all again, the motorbikes, the Muggle girls … oh how that how had annoyed his mother.

One photograph caught his eye, the only wizarding one on the wall. Four teenagers, laughing arm-in-arm at Hogwarts, their faces filled with laughter, care-free.

A lump grew in Sirius' throat and he drew closer, transfixed. He remembered this photo, taken the day they had all managed to successfully become Animagi after years of study, laughing at their own brilliance, smug looks on their faces.

And _he _was there, that little coward, grinning like the rest of them. Anger boiled in the pit of Sirius' stomach. He had no right to be in this photo, he was the one that had destroyed that relationship, the one that had undermined the very reason they had all become Animagi in the first place- loyalty to a friend.

He tried to take it from the wall, to cut the little rat out of the photo, but it was stuck to the wall. _Of course_ he thought. _Permanent Sticking charm._ It was rather ironic actually; he'd attached this photo to the wall back at a time when he was happy, was certain without doubt that this friendship would never end, and now here he was years later, planning to murder one of the subjects for the betrayal of another. This photo had been a statement to his parents of how much stronger and better he was than them. It hadn't exactly worked out the way he thought it would.

He turned away angrily, his eyes growing wet. He turned back again, deliberately avoiding Peter's face. He barely recognised himself, had he ever been that happy? And there was Remus, looking happy beyond measure at the level of friendship that had been shown him at a time he thought he would be abandoned. And James.

Sirius stared at his face for a long moment, taking in every detail. _I'm doing this for you James, for your son._

He turned away again unable to look upon his teenaged happiness any longer. _Peter, how could you have destroyed something that was so good?_

A box on the musty bed caught his eye, and he frowned. That hadn't been there before.

He moved towards it, noticing it was covered by as much dust as everything else. It had obviously been here for years.

There was a sheet of parchment on the top. Sirius picked it up and read:

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Personal effects of: **_Sirius Orion Black_

**Confiscated: **_2__nd__ November 1981_

**Relinquished to: **_Walburga Black (mother)_

**Imprisonment**: _Life_

An odd feeling came over Sirius at that moment, which he wasn't sure he could interpret.

His own belongings; he'd wondered what'd happened to them. Of course the Ministry must have searched his property after his arrest. Why had they given them to his mother? It was well known that mother and son didn't exactly see eye to eye. More confusing, why had she kept them? It certainly can't have been out of any motherly love; the box appeared to have remained unopened. Why had she accepted his old belongings just to leave them in his old bedroom untouched?

Sirius shrugged, who was he to explain his mother's peculiar behaviour?

He opened the box to find it filled with miscellaneous junk from the place he used to live before that night his world had ended. A few books, some cloaks, the watch he'd received from Mr and Mrs Potter on his 17th birthday, a few spare motorbike parts and many, many sheets of parchment. But not what he was looking for: his wand. He sighed, it had been a longshot anyway; wands of criminals were kept at the Ministry until their release, or death.

It was startling how naked he felt without his wand in his pocket. He had a newfound sympathy for Muggles; how could they go around feeling so exposed all the time? His hand clenched on the knife in the pocket of his robes, then again, there was just something that much more tangible about a knife … as opposed to a narrow strip of wood, _this_ exuded danger.

He began searching through all the old pieces of parchment, barely glancing at their content. They were old letters mainly, from various Order members. Occasionally phrases would leap out at him … _regret to inform you the McKinnons were found dead last night … Dark Mark over a house in Hamilton … brutal murder of an Unspeakable … _the world had been so cruel. Then again, that never changed.

He searched through again, and other phrases leaped out at him … _did you _really _send a Valentine to McGonagall Padfoot? Thank Merlin you're not still at school, she'd have you in detention for a month! … had so much fun last night Padfoot, don't think anyone's ever managed to pull a successful prank on Dumbledore before! Ha! Did you see his face when … PADFOOT! LILY'S HAD THE BABY! Get yourself to St. Mungo's NOW!_

Sirius chuckled at the memories held in his hands. Yes, there'd been laughter too.

Underneath a large box containing old potions ingredients, repugnant with age, he found a sizeable bundle of photographs. His breath caught in his throat.

He could clearly make out the photographs, despite the dim lighting. On top was a photo of himself, James and Remus at a Quidditch game, sporting magnificent banners and rosettes and clearly singing at the top of their voices. What game was this? Sirius could not remember. After so long in Azkaban, Quidditch seemed like such a trivial thing now.

Another showed himself, James and Frank Longbottom in the kitchen of James' cottage at Godric's Hollow, before James and Lily had gone into hiding. All three men were clutching Firewhiskeys looking joyfully happy. That had been the day both Frank and James had strolled casually into an Order meeting and announced both their wives were pregnant. The ensuing party had been chaotic to say the least, everyone just happy to forget all the other horrible things going on and celebrate in the new life that was shortly to arrive. This news coming so shortly after the news of the mass murder of a group of Muggles, well, it had been the perfect pick-me-up.

Another showed Remus on his birthday, being presented with a bottle of aftershave called 'Howl' with the tagline 'Release your inner wolf.' Remus was looking rather unsure of whether to laugh or not, whilst Sirius and James had no reservations, laughing wildly, tears running down their faces at the joke.

Tears ran down Sirius' face now, but of a different sort.

He flicked through the photos a while longer, lingering on some, throwing others on the floor, namely the ones with Peter in them. He found the one Lily had sent him just before she'd died, the one with Harry on his toy broomstick. He searched for the letter that had accompanied it, and read it several times through, feeling choked up once again, anger igniting itself once again at the mention of Wormtail, and how he'd seemed 'down.' Of course he did. He was planning to betray them wasn't he?

He looked at the photograph once again and laughed at the sight of the tiny black-haired boy on his broom. Did he still fly? Was he on his House team?

A car drove past the house at that moment, blasting out some loud awful music, and Sirius was jerked back to the real world. He should be going.

He gathered up all the photographs once again and placed them back in the box. He hated to leave them here, he knew he'd never have the chance to return for them, but it just wasn't practical. He was closing the lid on the box once more, when one last photograph caught his eye. It was himself, James and Lily sitting in the living room of their house. Harry was lying in a blue blanket, only a few weeks old, awake and smiling at the camera, his bright green eyes flashing out from his rosy face. He lay in Sirius' arms, with his mother and father sitting beside him. It was the day Sirius had been appointed Harry's godfather. He'd protested, saying Remus was the only one of them remotely mature enough to be responsible for a child, but James had insisted. It had been the happiest day of his life.

Sirius looked at it one long moment. That was the day he had pledged to be a good godfather, to provide an ear to listen to him, advice to support him, to play Quidditch with him, to be there for him, and to do everything in his power to protect him.

Sirius looked closely at Harry's face. _His godson …_

He slipped the photograph into the inside pocket of his robes. He'd keep just this one.

After all, Harry was the one he was fighting for now.

He closed the lid on the box and turned his back on it, emerging back into the top-floor landing. He transformed, and began to pad down the staircase, listening intently. There were no sounds coming from anywhere.

Sirius began to get uneasy. Were these Aurors actually so dim-witted as to have no one on watch at night?

He stepped out onto the bottom floor corridor, his ears pricked up for any sound from the kitchen. He turned and stalked along the corridor towards the door. As long as he made no mistakes now-

'SMASH!' Sirius had collided headfirst with the troll's leg, missing it in the almost pitch darkness. Panic flooded through him, he had to have woken them up, what was he going to-

'Who's there?' A voice boomed from behind him.

Sirius crouched in the darkness, maybe if he stayed still … If only James and his Cloak were here …

'_Lumos!_'

The corridor was flooded with light and Sirius knew the game was up. He turned around slowly and squinted up at the man behind him.

He was young, probably the intern he'd heard earlier-what had been his name- and he looked more surprised than Sirius at finding a dog in the house.

He stared at Sirius bemusedly for a couple of minutes, his eyes wide, before he lowered his wand slightly.

Sirius tried to fight back the panic that had threatened to overwhelm him. _He was a Gryffindor!_ Use your brain! He'd had plenty practice acting the dog, now it was time to put it to the test.

Sirius tilted his head to one side and gave a small '_Woof!' _He began to wag his tail and bounced on his paws, trying to look as adorable as possible, despite the fact he was gaunt and filthy, with matted fur that probably stank something awful.

The Auror frowned slightly and moved forward a little, before lowering his wand a few more inches.

Sirius bounded towards him and rubbed up against his leg, whilst the Auror took a startled step backwards. Sirius looked up at him with his 'puppy-dog eyes', as James had christened them.

The Auror seemed finally to relax and put his wand back into his pocket. He hesitantly put his hand out towards Sirius, who thrust his head towards it, and the Auror began scratching his ears.

'Well well well, how did you get in here?'

Sirius responded with a bark, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The Auror surveyed him critically.

'You look awful boy. You been wandering the streets?'

He glanced behind him.

'Come on. You want some food?'

This time the excited bark Sirius gave was not faked.

The Auror grinned and retreated back to the kitchen. Sirius waited a couple of minutes before following him; after all he didn't want to make it too obvious he understood what he'd said. He raced after the man, all the time maintaining an image of energy and excitement, whilst his heart thumped in fear.

He made his way down into the basement kitchen, as gloomy as ever and the Auror crossed over to the table and withdrew a few slices of meat from a large rucksack lying there, and held them out to Sirius who accepted them greedily. The Auror then went to one of the old cupboards and brought out an old silver bowl with the Black family crest on it. He pointed his wand into it and said '_Augumenti'. _The bowl filled with water and the Auror placed it down onto the ground, which Sirius lapped up gratefully; it was certainly refreshing to have clean water for a change as opposed to rain water drank from gutters.

The Auror watched him a couple of moments, and Sirius took care to act as 'dog-like' as he could, wagging his tail frantically, even though his heart was in his mouth.

The Auror laughed and called out:

'Oi! Dave! Come see what I found! Wake up you lazy sod!'

A muffled response came from the direction of the other side of the kitchen. A creak of springs, and a rustling of sheets told Sirius the other Auror was in a camp bed of sorts, apparently sleeping whilst the other Auror kept watch. Sirius wanted to look up to see this new threat, but he kept himself in character, lapping up his water with vigour.

'What's all the yelling about Roger? What've you- Merlin's beard! Where'd he come from?'

'Dunno. Found him in the corridor just now, knocked over that troll's leg.'

Sirius finished his drink, and sat back on his haunches and gazed up at the other Auror. This one was much older, and Sirius could guess, much harder to trick. But he seemed as startled as the other one at the present moment.

The older Auror, Dave, looked him over.

'A stray, d'you reckon?'

'Probably. Look at the state of him. He practically inhaled that meal I gave him.'

Dave gave Roger a derisive look. 'You've been feeding our rations to a _dog?_'

'Come on Dave! Where's your heart? Look at him!'

Sirius took this as a cue to give a pitiful whine, and look pathetic. Would a sad look and a soppy Auror really get him out of this?

Dave sighed. 'How did he get in?'

'Well … I left the back door open for a couple of hours this afternoon. Maybe he sneaked in then?'

'What the hell did you do that for? You could have let anyone in!'

Roger was riled. 'I _had_ to open that door. That old stove hasn't been used for years and when I tried to cook _your_ lunch on it, it filled the place with the most awful stench. I had to breathe!'

Dave shook his head. 'You're hopeless Roger.'

Roger rolled his eyes and said nothing.

Dave looked more closely at Sirius. 'You sure he's a dog?'

'What else could he be? A rabbit?' Roger responded scornfully.

'You know what I mean. Maybe he's an Animagi!'

'Can't be,' said Roger at once. 'There hasn't been any dog Animagi this century.'

'Maybe he's unregistered,' said Dave, though more uncertainly.

Roger rolled his eyes again. 'You overthink everything Dave. He's just a stray wandering around who saw an open door and an opportunity to get a good snooze in the warm.'

Dave looked exasperated. 'And why do _you_ always dismiss everything? This house was enchanted so as not to be seen by Muggles, how did even see the place?'

'Because he's a dog, not a Muggle!'

'You know what I mean! He's not magical!' Dave protested, but it was obvious he was losing.

'And Hogwarts can't be seen by Muggles either and it's always crawling with animals,' Roger stated firmly. 'You _are _turning into Mad-Eye, you're seeing enemies everywhere!'

Dave threw his hands up resignedly. 'Fine! Do what you like! _I'm_ not looking after that mangy mutt! If you want to feed him and treat him like a pet, go ahead. And don't ask me to clean up its mess!'

'Aww, Dave, you're giving me my own pet?' Roger asked in mock sincerity.

Dave shook his head and wandered off. 'You're impossible Roger.'

Sirius had to admit, it was mildly entertaining. It reminded him of the days he and James would argue with Remus when they proposed doing something stupid.

So, he was a pet now? _Well, _he thought, looking back up at the table where more food was waiting, _he could live with that._

**A/N: Please leave a review! Pretty please? :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I apologise for my abysmal updating recprd! But, here we go! :)**

**Underlined content from Prisoner of Azkaban and property of Queen Rowling.  
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><p>Sirius had to admit it: living with and being fed by the men who were paid to capture him was amusing to say the least. He was a pet, and it wasn't half bad. He was fed, watered and looked after with a warm place to sleep at night. It certainly beat the streets of London.<p>

By and large the Aurors ignored him, treating him mainly as a minor distraction from the evidently boring job of guarding the house. Guarding the house from the man who was currently lying curled up at their feet.

Sirius counted the days carefully; he had to be able to know when he'd have to leave for King's Cross. He wished he could have a look at one of the _Daily Prophets _that were delivered every morning, but he thought he'd better not push his luck; one of them was always watching. Although Roger was fairly kind to him, Dave had little to do with Sirius, not out of cruelty; it seemed he just didn't share his younger colleague's enthusiastic nature. He was frustrated, that much was obvious, he'd most likely drawn the short straw and ended up guarding the house, and it was apparent he felt his talents were being wasted. Sirius could tell he would be a formidable opponent in a duel.

Roger on the other hand was more easy-going and often verbally sparred with Dave over his strict adherence to duty and regulation. The two's banter was that of good friends, though Roger was obviously inferior to Dave. Sirius decided early on, that if circumstances had been different, he would actually have liked them.

But he couldn't remain here, despite the relative comfort. Come the night of 31st August he was creeping off to the station to be there early and hopefully board the train when there was no one about.

The night finally came and Sirius was preparing to make off as soon as one of the two Aurors headed off to the camp bed in the corner, whilst the other stood watch. They hardly ever left the kitchen; Roger apparently citing the reason many times when he complained of the state of the house. The kitchen appeared to be the most habitable place in the building, apparently due to the fact it had been Kreacher's sole domain for the best part of the last decade.

Sirius hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of the elf, a fact he was most grateful for, but he'd once or twice heard some low mutterings sounding vaguely elf-like. Sirius decided the little git had finally gone mad.

Roger and Dave sat at the kitchen table eating their evening meal, whilst Sirius sat looking at them hopefully, graciously accepting any titbits that came his way; after all, he had no idea where or how often his meals would be coming after he left this house.

Dave pored over the _Evening Prophet_. 'Hogwarts starts back tomorrow.'

Roger looked at him dully: 'And?'

Dave frowned at him over the top of the newspaper. 'And, all that new security's getting put into place isn't it?'

Sirius perked up. New security? From what? Would he be able to get inside?

Roger scoffed. 'Yeah, like that's going to stop Black.'

Sirius drew in a sharp breath. They were adding this because of him? What did they think he was going to do? Storm the castle?

'What d'you mean Roger?'

'Well, Black got past the Dementors once didn't he? Might not be so difficult to do it again would it?'

A whine escaped Sirius' throat before he could stop it. _Dementors at Hogwarts? _What was Dumbledore playing at?

Roger glanced down at the sound of the whine. 'Oh, sorry boy. Here.' He threw down a bit of meat for Sirius, and he ate it immediately, but his appetite had gone. How was he supposed to get into Hogwarts with those things floating around?

Dave sighed. 'It's a sad state of affairs when they have to put guards around a school.'

'Do they really think Black'll turn up there?'

'We don't know what Black'll do. He's been unhinged by Azkaban. He's dangerous.'

'But I heard Fudge saying, when he went to Azkaban Black had seemed practically normal. Not mad at all.'

Fudge. That's who'd given him the newspaper that day in his cell.

Dave sighed again. 'You weren't there that night twelve years ago, I was-one of the first in fact, along with Fudge. He was laughing like a maniac, with bodies lying all around him. It was bone-chilling to say the least. I've seen a lot of Death Eater attacks in my time, but none as bad as that. The way he just _laughed …_'

Sirius winced. He had to admit, it did look bad.

Dave continued: 'I tell you Roger, don't be fooled. The more sane they seem, the more dangerous they are. Unpredictable. Could explode at any moment.'

Roger didn't look convinced. 'Black will _never _get into Hogwarts. Not with the Dementors hanging around. And then there's Dumbledore! Even You-Know-Who was terrified of him! Black doesn't stand a chance!'

Dave shook his head sombrely. 'You heard what Fudge said. Black was talking in his sleep: '_He's at Hogwarts … he's at Hogwarts.'_ He's determined to get in there. If he can get out of Azkaban, it stands to reason he can get into Hogwarts.'

'But it still doesn't change the fact that Dumbledore will always be around. The Potter boy'll be perfectly safe!'

Sirius felt as though a brick had just slipped into his stomach. _They thought he was after Harry?_ That was mental! That was insane! That was- actually pretty plausible. Sirius thought back, from their point of view it wasn't that crazy of an idea. If they really thought he was a Death Eater of course they would have thought he'd want to finish the job his master started. It made him sick to think about, but it made sense.

'Black is a homicidal maniac Roger, what's worse, he's an _intelligent _homicidal maniac! If he wants in, he'll get in. We're not sure why he's after the boy, but from his perspective Potter was the one who destroyed his life. Black lost everything after exposing himself to be the spy feeding You-Know-Who information. Maybe he wants his revenge on the boy.'

Sirius was shaking with anger. Yes, he was after Harry, but to protect him. Dementors may be guarding the school, but Sirius knew all too well how they could be fooled by Animagi. It was from within the school walls the danger lay.

Dave went on: 'Potter is in danger wherever he goes. You remember all that uproar a couple of weeks ago when he ran away from home?'

Roger screwed up his face in concentration. 'Vaguely yeah, but I wasn't really paying much attention.'

Dave rolled his eyes. 'There's a surprise. The Ministry got notification that there'd been a massive registering of magic at Potter's house, and of course everyone thought Black had turned up to finish him off! Aurors rushed over to the place only to find Potter missing.'

'Missing?'

'Yeah, turns out Black _hadn't _turned up. Potter had had an argument with his Muggle aunt and er, accidently inflated her and-'

'Wait, _inflated her?_'

'Yeah, she was bobbing around on the ceiling when they turned up. And she had no idea her nephew was a wizard so they had to do some _serious _Memory Charms.'

Regardless of the seriousness of the situation Sirius had a mad urge to laugh. _Inflated his aunt?_ Oh, how James would be proud.

'Anyway, Potter had scarpered, his uncle was furious apparently. He ran off with all his stuff. Of course there was major panic, everyone was trying to find him before Black did.'

Sirius smiled wryly. Well, they hadn't .

'The Knight Bus picked him up, and Fudge himself met him at the Leaky Cauldron to make sure he was alright. It was a close call. If Potter pulls any more stunts like that at school, well, I doubt he'll live to see his next birthday.'

Sirius felt a weight lift from his shoulders. So Harry had been alright then, after the bus had gotten him. And by the sounds of it he hadn't been expelled for the under-age magic – one piece of good news.

Roger exhaled sharply. 'What a mess. Poor kid. He knows right, that Black's after him?'

Dave looked at him incredculously. 'You mad? Would you tell a little kid a murderer's after him?'

Roger stared. 'You mean he had no idea? He's not prepared at all? How can he not know? He must know about Black being the one who led You-Know-Who to his mum and dad!'

Dave was silent. Roger's eyes grew wider.

'What? No one's told him his parents are dead because their best friend betrayed them? The man who's just escaped from a supposedly impenetrable fortress?'

'He's a kid!'

'He has a right to know!'

Sirius watched the volley, frowning. Harry _didn't _think Sirius was the one responsible for him being an orphan? A tiny flickering of hope rose up within him. Maybe he could convince him otherwise; maybe he'd be able to get through to him, maybe-

'You sound just like Arthur Weasley Roger!'

Sirius was brought back from his wild imaginings with a thump. Arthur Weasley? The one who'd won that money? The one whose son had a murderer for a pet?

Roger frowned. 'What's Arthur Weasley got to do with anything? He works in the Muggle Artefacts place doesn't he?'

'Yes, but he's been complaining to Fudge. He says Potter should know the truth.'

Normally, Sirius would agree. There was no point in ill-preparing a child in the hope of protecting his innocence. They should put him on his guard. But still, Harry not knowing was a huge advantage to him.

'Why does he have a say? What's Potter to him?'

'Family friend apparently. Potter's stayed at their home before. He and the youngest Weasley son are best friends; same year and the same House.'

Sirius froze, a fear and a rage coursing through every inch of his body, rage as he had never known before. Harry and the Weasley boy … best friends. Peter was _right there!_ Ready to strike at any minute!

Sirius let out a huge booming bark before he could stop himself, and ran from the room, bounding up the stairs, adrenaline coursing through him. Harry was in the same House and same year as Weasley, the same dormitory as Peter Pettigrew.

He emerged into the drawing room, and transformed, not even caring who saw him. He wrenched the _Daily Prophet _clipping from his pocket and read the article once again, and stared at the photo, willing himself to see something that wasn't there. But it hadn't changed. The family still stood there, smiling and laughing as much as ever, Peter still sitting there on the shoulder of what was obviously the youngest Weasley boy.

A cry of rage, curiously sounding dog-like, ripped from his throat. _That stinking little coward! _He had to leave _now_. He had no time to waste. He had to get to the station and board that train.

He stuffed the article back into his robes and became a dog once more, and pelted from the room, leaping down the staircase. Roger and Dave were standing there looking kind of bewildered at his sudden actions. He leapt towards them, and they could do nothing more than look alarmed at the giant dog flying through the air before they were both knocked off their feet.

'Oof! That dog's mad I tell you! It's rabid!'

Sirius barked, and licked both their faces- after all, they had been kind to him, even if it was their job to send him back to Azkaban- before turning and running off down the corridor, heedless of the screams of his mother's portrait at the loud barking, stood up on his back legs and opened the door after a few seconds fiddling around with the complicated lock, and leapt out into the street without looking back to see their stunned faces.

He ran off down the street towards the station. He was on his way. _I'm coming for you Peter._

He arrived at King's Cross not long afterwards. Despite the late hour the station was just as bustling as ever. He'd have to be careful.

He hovered around the front entrance, unsure how to proceed. Someone would certainly notice a large dog running through the station, and they'd probably try to catch him or restrain him.

He glanced around for inspiration. A large Muggle family was at that moment entering the station, lugging several heavy suitcases and arguing profusely. The raucous bickering and wails of the young children being dragged by their parents by the hand clearly suggested a family about to embark on a holiday, which as usual with family holidays, was sure to be a disaster. Sirius considered for a moment; no one would think twice if he just, tagged along, would they?

The family came closer and closer.

'Lucy! Stop that whining and hold Mummy's hand!'

'Don' want to! No hand! No hand!'

'Jack! You can have your sweeties once we're on the train, not before!'

'Don' wanna go! Don' wanna go!'

Sirius shuddered; what a nightmare.

They passed close by the pillar he had concealed himself behind, and Sirius took his chance. He leapt out from his hiding place and began trailing after the family, trying to look as though he fit in.

The mother and father had not seen him, too preoccupied were they in controlling their offspring, and Sirius just padded along behind them. No one cast him a second glance.

They moved further and further through the station, and though Sirius kept his head bowed, he could see just in front, the approaching barrier between platforms nine and ten. _Just a little closer_.

The mother of the unruly family stopped in confusion.

'No, this isn't right. We're not in the right place, maybe we should turn back and find someone to- Aargh!'

She had turned around and saw him following them. Sirius cursed his rotten luck.

'Go away you disgusting beast! Shoo! Go away!' She began to swat at him.

'Doggy! Doggy! You no hurt doggy!' The young boy began to protest.

'Can we keep him Mummy?' The little girl pleaded with her mother.

The mother seized her children and pulled them away from him.

'John, look at the state of it! Probably covered in fleas! Most likely it'll bite too!'

Sirius huffed in indignation. He'd always thought he looked rather cute as a dog.

'What's going on here?' A new voice joined the fray. Sirius looked up to see one of the Muggle guards.

'That dog won't leave us alone! It's probably a rabid stray! It's a public health risk!'

The guard looked at him appraisingly. 'Not to worry Madam. We'll take care of this.'

_The hell you will_, thought Sirius. There was no way they were stopping him getting onto that platform.

The guard had reached out to make a grab for him, which Sirius managed to avoid easily, and he pelted off, towards the barrier. _If he could only make it onto the platform. They'd never be able to guess where he'd gone …_

He heard the guard coming in pursuit, with a couple of cronies who'd turned up. The barrier was right in front of him now … he leapt towards it …

'SMACK!'

Sirius fell back with a resounding thud, whilst the world swam in front of his eyes. He could feel a large lump forming on his head. He lay stunned on the ground for a few moments, blinking away the spots of bright light he was seeing.

_You idiot! You've literally just run head-first into a brick wall!_

He barely had a moment to regain his senses, when a large hand clamped down on the fur on the back of his neck.

'Gotcha! You mangy mutt!'

They dragged him to his feet. Sirius swayed on the spot.

'Poor thing. It's been knocked out of its wits.'

'What d'you expect? He just smacked off the barrier! It's a wonder he didn't see it!'

The world started coming back into focus. He was in a pickle, there was no doubt about that. What would they do with him? Remove him from the station? Call for those animal people?

Why had he been so stupid? What reason would there be for Platform 9 ¾ opening a day early?

One of the guards had seized him roughly by the neck and was trying to guide him along the station, and away from the barrier. What was he going to do?

Everything was becoming clearer and clearer by the second, and his mind once again began to function. _Think Sirius, think. Have you lost all of your intelligence in Azkaban?_

Sirius looked around himself surreptitiously, well, as surreptitiously as a dog could, looking for potential escape routes. He couldn't see any.

They were dragging him to what looked like some security office. _Well, to hell with that!_

Desperate times, call for desperate measures.

He twisted around sharply and fiercely bit into the hand that held him captive. He heard a strangled yell, and felt himself being released.

He legged it.

He ran through the station, not looking behind to see if he was being followed, dodging commuters, families, prams, vendor carts, until he saw the way out. He bounded desperately for the open air.

He emerged out onto the street, already beginning to darken, and cast around for someplace to go. He spied an enormous dustbin to his left, and leaped behind that, held his breath, listening for any sound of pursuit.

After several moments of hearing only the wild thumping of his heart, he allowed himself to relax. Evidently chasing a dog was not high on a security guard's list of priorities.

_Damn. _What was he to do? He sat back on his haunches thinking furiously, ignoring the throbbing mass on his forehead. So much for his grand plan. He'd never be able to get onto the train at this rate. It looked like he'd have to walk.

He groaned inwardly. It was going to take him _days, weeks _even_._ Perhaps he could get some Muggle transport some of the way and … but what then? Hogwarts was in the far north, Scotland probably, but what part? Was he going to have to trek all over the Scottish highlands looking for the damn castle?

If only wizarding schools weren't so bloody secretive about their locations.

But, what option did he have?

What did those Aurors say? Fudge had met Harry at the Leaky Cauldron? Was he still there? Maybe Sirius could go to him and … what? What could he do? Harry wouldn't listen to him. He wouldn't trust him. Besides, it was too dangerous to anywhere near Diagon Alley now.

As he was thinking this, he heard footsteps coming down the alleyway. Sirius crept back further into the shadows to avoid whoever was coming, suddenly alert.

A shadowy figure came into view walking slowly with a small suitcase in tow. Sirius strained his eyes in the semi-darkness. The figure came to a stop underneath a dull lamp, deposited the suitcase on the ground and withdrew a letter from within his pocket and began to read. He turned his head slightly, throwing his face into relief, and Sirius' heart stopped.

_Moony._

He was older, much older, with more lines in his face and grey in his hair than was normal for someone for his age, looking shabby, tired and drawn. But it was him.

Sirius took his appearance in slowly. His robes were patched and frayed, his face haggard; he didn't look well at all. The last twelve years had had about as good an effect on his appearance as they had on Sirius'. Pity rose within Sirius, and a sense of guilt. He'd barely even given Remus a second thought, so focused had he been on Peter.

How much Remus must have suffered suddenly dawned upon Sirius. All three of his best friends were- in Remus' view- either dead or incarcerated, thanks to one man. How much would Remus hate Sirius now? How much would he hate him for snatching everything away from him?

Why had Sirius ever thought Remus was the traitor? He'd thought, as a werewolf, Remus would be more easily swayed by the Death Eaters, more insecure, more afraid, more magically powerful, but looking back now, he felt such an idiot. Remus had cared about his friends more than anything. He'd been accepted and appreciated for the first time in his life; he'd been happy. He could never have betrayed that. Not to mention the fact that Remus was a goody-two-shoes.

Sirius had had that same intense longing for acceptance Remus had had; how could he have even suspected him? Peter was looking more and more obvious now; he'd not been concerned about being accepted, he'd only ever been in it for the power and advantages. Why Peter had ever been a Gryffindor was beyond him.

Sirius wanted nothing more than to just run out there and transform and tell him how sorry he was for everything. But of course, he couldn't. Remus would hate him, and rightly so. If only Sirius had trusted him …perhaps everything could have turned out differently.

Still, Sirius was happy to see him. He may look as ill as ever, his curse still having the same debilitating effect on his life, but at least he was alive. After all of this, after Peter was dead, after Sirius could somehow prove his innocence, if he ever could, he would have one friend to return to. If he accepted him.

How had Remus suffered all these years without his friends to help him? James had been helping him out financially as no one would employ a man with his condition, so how had he been supporting himself since? Had he gotten a job? Would anyone have _given_ him a job?

How had he fared with no friendly faces he could turn to that knew his secret and accepted him for it?

More than ever Sirius felt his drive to destroy Peter be ignited. So many lives had been ruined.

A flash of gold caught Sirius' eye. He looked closer and saw lettering on the battered suitcase Remus had been carrying: '_Professor R.J. Lupin'_.

Sirius felt a mad urge to laugh. Remus a professor! Of course, it made sense. Remus had always been the bookish type. He'd demonstrated his patience and ability to teach when they were at Hogwarts at exam time; tutoring Peter, and filling in Sirius and James everything they'd missed in classes when they'd been too busy carrying on, or missed the class completely, off conceiving their latest prank. Remus _had _always been the responsible one; keeping the rest of them in line, though he wasn't entirely innocent, having pulled a few beauties of a prank himself. But he'd always drawn the line somewhere- he'd always been the 'good' one. Professor was the perfect job for him.

What did he teach? Ancient Runes? Arithmancy? Surely not Care of Magical Creatures- that would be _far_ too appropriate. Maybe it was Defence Against the Dark Arts? Remus had been the first one of them able to master a Patronus, and also cast a mean Stinging Jinx into the bargain. Sirius hoped not; as good as Remus was, the job was cursed, everyone knew that. _I'm a cursed man Sirius_, was what Remus would have said in return. Still, Sirius hoped he was happy in his job, glad Dumbledore had given this opportunity to a man who so whole-heartedly deserved it.

Remus sighed and folded up the letter and put it back into the pocket of his robes. He stood for a moment looking indecisive about something. Eventually, his face set in an expression of grim determination, and he picked up his suitcase and strode off towards the station entrance.

Sirius debated about whether to follow him. He obviously was heading towards Platform 9 ¾, perhaps knowing how to get onto the platform early. If Sirius could stick close enough to him, perhaps he could gain access as well. But he ran the risk of Remus turning around and seeing him. He'd recognise him immediately. A sudden thought struck him then. Why hadn't Remus informed the Ministry that Sirius was an Animagus? Perhaps there was still hope. Then again, perhaps he just didn't want to admit he'd ever been a party to breaking the law. But that didn't matter now; for whatever reason, he'd kept it secret. And for that Sirius was intensely grateful.

Why was he getting the train anyway? Teachers didn't usually. Was Remus so poor as to not afford Floo powder or a ticket on the Knight Bus? Remus had learnt to Apparate with the rest of them, but the Ministry had denied him the right to take the test. Sirius had never gotten over the indignation. Did they honestly think he was going to Apparate mid-transformation or something? Or did they still just still have that medieval attitude that forbade decent people from having basic rights?

Remus was almost out of sight when Sirius made up his mind. He had to try.

He raced after him, swiftly moving on silent paws and streaking through the entrance so fast no security guard would have had time to register there was an animal there at all. He ducked behind a large luggage cart, and waited for Remus to move further into the station; it wouldn't do to stay so close to him.

He watched as Remus drew closer to the platform barrier, before stopping. Sirius bounded out from his hiding place and ran across the station, skilfully avoiding any obstacle, hoping against hope those security guards that had chased him from the station weren't looking.

He hid behind another luggage cart as he watched Remus look around, before withdrawing his wand slightly from his pocket. He pointed it directly at the barrier and muttered a low spell. The barrier shimmered slightly, imperceptible to any passing Muggles unless they looked directly at it. Remus cast another look about him, and leaned against the barrier, disappearing.

Sirius held his breath waiting. He had to time this perfectly. He couldn't just burst through onto the platform directly after Remus. Then again, how long would the spell last?

He seized his chance, and burst out and ran towards the barrier. He felt himself pass through it, and emerge onto the deserted and darkened platform.

He immediately lay flat against the ground and looked around for any threats.

The Hogwarts Express sat there, cold and silent, almost looking black in the darkness. He saw a distant shape at the other end of the platform. It was Remus. He reached the last compartment of the train, grabbed the door and let himself in.

Sirius frowned. He was going to sleep on the train? Was his housing situation really that desperate?

For that matter, what was he, Sirius, going to do? He didn't think trying to conceal himself in one of the compartments was such a good idea; the students would definitely notice him. Where could he go that no one would see him?

He padded down the platform until he got to the last compartment, ducking down when he saw Remus' shadowy figure against the window. He reached the very end of the train, and saw a tiny little platform with a railing attached to the rear end of the carriage.

Sirius sniffed. He'd be exposed to the elements, clinging on for dear life, uncomfortable … but at least he'd be invisible to anybody on the train.

He leapt up onto the platform, and curled up trying to make himself as comfortable as possible, trying not to think of the friend just a few feet away trying to do the same thing.

Before Sirius knew it, he was dozing off, his entire body drooping from weariness.

What seemed almost immediately, he awoke to find the platform bustling with life. He jumped up in alarm, and ducked backwards making doubly sure no one from the platform would be able to see him. Then he groaned. Of course they'd see him! When the train drove away he'd be fully visible to the parents and family members on the platform!

But there was nothing he could do about that now, except hope no one would be paying too much attention. And that the news of a mysterious black dog on the Hogwarts Express didn't reach the ears of Remus Lupin.

Sirius listened to the sounds of families seeing off their children, shouted farewells, tearful goodbyes, reminders to be well behaved, and tried not to feel jealous. His parents hadn't cared enough to see _him_ off. Oh, they'd hugged and kissed Regulus, telling him how much they'd miss him and begging him to write every day, but Sirius was lucky to get a stern word from his father reminding him to 'uphold the family honour' even if he _was _in Gryffindor.

Still, Platform 9 ¾ had been a place acting as a gateway to Hogwarts, where he was happy. And Sirius missed the feeling of coming here and knowing he was off for a year away from the life he hated. Now he was here again, but heading off into danger.

Sirius crept forward slightly to get a good look. Judging by the few children on the platform, it must be almost 11. Then, he saw a gaggle of red-haired children appear, heading directly towards the last carriage.

Sirius' breath caught in his throat. It was _them_, the Weasleys!

'Come on you lot! You'd best hurry up or you'll miss it!" the father called to his children. Balding and spectacled, Sirius recognised Arthur Weasley immediately from the photograph.

His wife followed him directly, looking flustered, and dragging a young girl with her.

"Right Ginny, on you go dear," she said, assisting her daughter onto the train, while her father lifted her trunk for her. "_Boys! _Hurry up!"

The rest of the Weasley family, plus a bushy-haired girl appeared, carrying their trunks; a pair of twins, the youngest son, and … Harry.

Sirius felt a lump rise in his throat at the sight of him. But also a feeling of anger; this here was the proof of what the Aurors had said; Harry was indeed friendly with the family who were unintentionally harbouring his parent's murderer.

He looked happier than he had the night Sirius saw him leave his aunt's house. He was dragging his own trunk and the large cage Sirius had seen him with previously, this time with a handsome snowy owl in it. He and the others disappeared onto the train, emerging a few minutes later to say their goodbyes.

The mother hugged and kissed all her children, including the brown-haired girl Sirius didn't recognise. Was she another of Harry's friends?

Mrs Weasley gave Harry an extra hug, and the woman immediately went up in Sirius' estimations.

She looked concerned and almost watery-eyed as she looked at him, saying something to Harry quietly. She obviously cared a great deal about him. Sirius felt like smiling. Perhaps Harry did have some sort of mother figure; he obviously didn't care much about his own Muggle family if he'd run away from them. Had this family acted as the one he'd never known? Sirius sincerely hoped so.

The woman opened her bag and distributed sandwiches amongst the children. The youngest son received his happily, and Sirius growled slightly as he looked at him. Where was Peter? Was he in the boy's pocket? Was he right there?

Sirius felt a crawling sensation creep all over his body. Peter could be right there within feet of him at this very instant, but he could do nothing. He couldn't just leap out and attack the boy. By the time he'd located the rat, even if he was there at all, the boy's parents would have subdued him somehow. The platform was full of witches and wizards; it'd be foolish to risk everything now.

Still, Peter _was_ here. On the train. It made Sirius want to howl in frustration. He despised sitting here, useless to act. But he had to be patient. His confrontation with Peter had to be at the right time, when he could really savour his revenge, instead of rushing out and attacking blindly. Also, he needed Harry to know the truth. How would Harry react right now if a monstrous dog just leapt out of nowhere and killed his best friend's pet?

At that moment, Arthur Weasley motioned to Harry and took him aside to speak to him. Sirius' curiosity was aroused. What was he saying to him?

They stood next to pillar, speaking in low undertones, Arthur looking serious and grim. Harry spoke back to him calmly, and said something which evidently made Arthur surprised, then anxious. Harry kept on speaking calmly to him, and Sirius wished he could hear; he thought he recognised his own name on Harry's lips.

"Arthur! Arthur what are you doing? It's about to go!" Mrs Weasley called to her husband, as she ferried the rest of them onto the train. But Arthur continued speaking to Harry after assuring his wife Harry was just coming, looking extremely serious.

A whistle sounded and guards began to close the doors to the train, and still Arthur continued talking to Harry. He said something then, which Harry responded to confusedly, his voice raised just loud enough for Sirius to hear:

"Why would I go looking for someone who wants to kill me?"

Sirius went cold as he heard this. He remembered what the Aurors had said; Arthur Weasley wasn't happy with keeping Harry in the dark. It looked like he'd finally followed his conscience. Sirius felt hope drift away from him; Harry believed he, Sirius, wanted to kill him. What hope did Sirius have of convincing him now?

But there may be hope yet. He obviously didn't know the story of Sirius' 'betrayal'. He may still be able to get through to him.

"Arthur, quickly!" Mrs Weasley shouted. The train had begun to move. Harry left Mr Weasley and leapt onto the train, passing out of Sirius' sight.

The train moved away from the station, slowly at first, building up more and more steam. Sirius ducked down, concealing himself from the watching eyes of parents on the platform, not moving until he felt the train turn a corner and move out of sight of the platform.

He sat up, already feeling cold from the buffeting wind on the exposed platform. He was on his way to Hogwarts.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please leave a review! :)**

**The reason of why Lupin got the train in PoA always intrigued me. He Apparates in Deathly Hallows so it's obvious he can, so why didn't he Apparate to Hogsmeade? I don't how the other teachers get to Hogwarts, but it must be something similar. Anyways, my reasoning for Lupin not Apparating is that werewolves somehow don't have the right to hold a licence, that the fare for the Knight Bus is too expensive, and he either can't afford Floo powder, or doesn't have a fireplace to Floo from, and that he only Apparated in Deathly Hallows as he no longer cared about breaking the law of a corrupt government. Anyways, that's just my reasoning. Feel free to contradict! :)**


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